


where spirit meets the bones

by softouches



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: But actually not - Freeform, But not exactly, Canon Compliant, Choi San is Whipped, M/M, Magical Realism, Soulmates, because he is cancer moon i know he's softie, because i am sap like that, choi san is done with everyone and just wants cuddles and sleep, evermore inspired, i seriously don't know what au is that, it's softer and fluffier than it seems, kinda??, t for language because my characters are emotional and curse a lot, time loops and witchery, wooyoung is cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softouches/pseuds/softouches
Summary: Silence again. San’s eyes are closed so he can’t exactly pinpoint what is happening, only Wooyoung’s hitched breathing being audible. “Perhapsiwantobuytarotdeck.”“Can you repeat?” San rises himself up on one of his elbows. Wooyoung’s cheeks are flushed and his gaze is glued to the blankets under him.“Well, perhaps,” he clears his throat while fiddling with his fingers. “Perhaps, I want to buy a tarot deck. Perhaps.”San blinks. Pinches himself two times to make sure it’s real. “I’m sorry you want to buy what?”“Tarot deck?” Wooyoung suggest meekly, making his voice quieter.San sighs, closing his eyes and feeling how they roll under his eyelids.Or: Wooyoung just wants to buy a tarot deck but San is the one who gets involved in spiritual shit for some reason
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	where spirit meets the bones

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday aru!! <3 ateez love and care u so so much!!
> 
> me: i will write short and fluffly and cute soulmates au as a present  
> *proceeds writing 7k of questionable plot and don't even understand what type of au is that*  
> me in a nutshell 
> 
> [now is playing: ivy](https://open.spotify.com/track/19CSr8rwW05VJL2F91KFNK?si=F5ALy-MVQhKc4p9r6QaDGg)

Having a day off sounded like a dream.

With time, the ability of having any sort of personal freedom seemed so distant and ephemeral that when those small and rare opportunities strike upon them, the only thing that San felt was restlessness – one the one hand, wasting one of very few free days just on laying around the dorm while eating and watching something ridiculously stupid and pointless seemed very lavish, but on the other hand, with the hectic schedule you must follow every day there is not much of a will to move around.

So far it’s 0:1 in favour of San’s rare expressions of laziness.

And it would have been moving by even more, if the door of his room hasn’t opened with a loud thump, with an overly hyped and enthusiastic Wooyoung barging in and right onto his bed.

San could complain if that wasn’t a usual occurrence.

“Hey, loser!” Wooyoung sing-songs, pushing San to the side.

San yelps, screaming something about his arm that is now under Wooyoung’s weight and groans. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Rude,” Wooyoung hisses, but stays still. His hair falls onto his eyes cutely, and it seems like his skin practically glows under the natural lighting coming from the morning sun that settles into the room. He looks fresh, and well-rested, and so warm that San internally wants to knock his own heart out so it fucking stop beating so fast.

You see, San has a tiny little problem, but has no will or effort to take care of it.

“It’s not me who is barging into someone’s room at ten in the morning,” he huffs, tearing his gaze away from pretty bronze of Wooyoung’s skin. “And, yet, _I_ am rude.”

“I just wanted a company,” Wooyoung pouts in reply, and leans over to take one of San’s plushies into his hands. San tries not to think much of cuteness of this gesture, and how it contrasts with the fact that Wooyoung is wearing a tank top. Somewhere on the outlines of his ribs he can spot a tiny tattoo, thoroughly hidden from anyone’s eyes.

“Go bother someone else, then,” San lets out a tired sigh. Honestly, he’s way too exhausted to deal with half-bare Wooyoung in his bed on top of his self-recrimination issues today. Wooyoung looks up, pouting even more. “What?”

“I need a favour.”

“No.”

“Please,” Wooyoung sits up in his place, placing himself right in front of San. “I need to go to Seongdong-gu.”

“Where?” San shrieks, feeling as his eyes bug out in surprise. “Wooyoung, it’s on the other side of the city,” he groans, falling back on his bed.

There is a moment of deep silence, and San thinks that, perhaps, Wooyoung has caught on the signs, but a minute after he hears a deep sigh, and a shuffling on the blankets. “I need to buy something there,” he mutters.

“What is it and why you can’t buy it anywhere closer?”

Silence again. San’s eyes are closed so he can’t exactly pinpoint what is happening, only Wooyoung’s hitched breathing being audible. “Perhapsiwantobuytarotdeck.”

“Can you repeat?” San rises himself up on one of his elbows. Wooyoung’s cheeks are flushed and his gaze is glued to the blankets under him.

“Well, perhaps,” he clears his throat while fiddling with his fingers. “Perhaps, I want to buy a tarot deck. Perhaps.”

San blinks. Pinches himself two times to make sure it’s real. “I’m sorry you want to buy _what_?”

“Tarot deck?” Wooyoung suggest meekly, making his voice quieter.

San sighs, closing his eyes and feeling how they roll under his eyelids. “Okay,” he says calmly. “Let’s suppose it’s not out of character. But couldn’t you, like, --” he sucks in a breath, pursing his lips. “I don’t know, order it?”

“And if someone sees the package,” Wooyoung mumbles, still avoiding San’s gaze. “They will tease me till the end of times and I don’t want that. And I want a _real_ tarot deck, not a cheap imitation.”

“Why do you even need that thing?”

Wooyoung thrums his fingers against the soft surface of the fabric. “Remember how we went to a tarot reading? Back in pre-debut days?”

“Let’s suppose I do, why?” San asks, still mildly confused and maybe concerned. Wooyoung typically is not a person to get into spiritualism, he didn’t even believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, at that point.

“Everything that woman told us came true,” Wooyoung looks up for the first time, but quickly averts San’s gaze as he meets his eyes. “I mean, not like precisely? But most of them? About you, and the group. And it shouldn’t matter, but I have been reading some stuff and I want to do it like--,” he sighs, biting down on his lip in nervous motion. “For fun. No commitment.”

“Now it looks like you’re asking me out,” San blurts out mindlessly and sees as Wooyoung’s eyes bug out in surprise, cheeks flushing. San panics, mentally reminding himself that he has no will to deal with his tiny little problem. “I am joking,” he rolls his eyes, hoping that the tension falls. “Why me, though? You could ask Yeosang.”

Wooyoung arches an eyebrow at him.

Okay, valid.

“Mingi?” San tries again, but Wooyoung’s expression remains rather sceptical.

“I’m most comfortable with you.”

1:1, San’s will of not moving around is losing the ground in here.

“Please,” Wooyoung pouts, and grabs him by the arm. His gaze is pleading, and his touch feels warm – reminding San that sooner or later cold winter days will be replaced by warmness and heat.

“Fine, let’s just get over it,” San sighs, and is immediately engulfed in a tight hug, accompanied by a loud screech that almost stuns him. Warm.

2:1, his weak spot for Wooyoung takes the lead.

*

Using public transport during working hours is nice. In the middle of the day the subway is rather empty, filled with tourists and young kids for the most part. A dull quietness and a subtle motion of the underground lulls San to sleep, so unknowingly his head falls to Wooyoung’s shoulder, resting there so comfortably as if it is the place it has always belonged to.

The ride is quite long, and twenty minutes in San feels as it gets hot all over – he is dressed in layers and layers of clothes and a winter coat while bundled in a scarf, after all. Wooyoung hums something under his breath, clicking through songs on his phone. Judging from his playlist, San can say that the boy is in a rather mellow mood, sticking to more chill and steady type of songs.

When they go up on the surface again, there is a heavy snowfall. It’s around two in the afternoon, but as the days are shorter the sun slowly, but surely, is getting closer to the horizon as the skies are tinted with a hooded dark blue by now.

San flinches from the coldness of snowflakes that are falling onto his face. “Fucking amazing,” he huffs, hearing the sound of snow crackling under his feet.

“Who? Me?” Wooyoung mocks, gaze locked to the google maps app on his phone. They took a wrong direction three times by now, but San is way to perplexed and annoyed to chime in the process.

“Your unbelievable choices of spending days off, Jung Wooyoung.”

“You agreed to this yourself, right?”

San clenches his fists by his sides. “No, someone really annoying talked me into this,” he grits, but the voice comes out barely audible. They take the second turn to the left, that leads them to a rather shabby area with narrow streets and lots of small corner shops.

“You should stop being a people pleaser, then,” Wooyoung looks up to him, and winks.

At that moment Choi San regrets every decision he has made this morning.

“Ask me to do something for you one more time,” He mumbles, but deep inside they both know that no matter how hard the grudge is, it would take no time for Wooyoung to indulge San in anything he needs.

_3:1, huh?_

“Let’s just separate our ways,” Wooyoung says, and suddenly stops. San is mostly looking to the ground not to slip, so he practically bumps in to his back, Wooyoung steading him with one hand. His eyelashes are covered with snowflakes, and black strands of hair are damp where they peak out from under the beanie. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and lips are parted in attempts to warm himself up.

Wooyoung is beautiful, and that what makes the matter even more ridiculous and absurd.

San clears his throat, hoping he wasn’t starring for too long, and pink blooming on Wooyoung’s cheeks is still from the cold. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but tries to makes his voice softer. “We don’t know this area at all, and will end up getting lost.”

“But like this it would be more efficient,” Wooyoung deadpans. “If I find it first – I quickly get what I need and come back. If you get first – just call me, and I will find you. Easy.”

The plan is unstable, groundless, and fishy, but arguing with Wooyoung is akin to talking to the wall, so San just grumbles ‘okay’ under his breath, immediately turning his back to take another direction. If he remembers correctly, they should have taken several turns by now, so San just mindlessly looks for something that may bring him to a needed place.

After ten minutes of aimless wandering, he is thinking that he got lost as well. It slowly starts getting darker and darker, and the area is rather deserted, not looking like a public-friendly place at all. A few things that San manages to stumble upon are either shabby diners or karaoke bars, and the annoyance starts pumping in through his veins.

“Things I do for you, Jung Wooyoung,” he whispers into the emptiness, as he gets stuck into a dead end once again. But as he turns around, a faint tingling catches his ears.

San looks up, and sees a small entrance, separated by a door made of glass and framed with wood, like some type of old-fashioned windows. There are a few tiny bells hanging above – they must have eluded the tingling sound caused by the gust of wind. What also attracts San’s attention is decoration from stars and what looks like runes, that are plastered all over the windows.

It’s high time to call Wooyoung, as the place makes San’s guts unpleasantly twist, as if in anticipation of something bad. But he feels completely frozen in his place, as if the door calls for him to come in, drawing him in. As if bewitched he steps closer, pulling the doorknob and hearing as the tingle of the bells above strikes his ears again.

San shudders.

Inside of the place looks like some type of antique shop. San actually thinks Seonghwa would enjoy aesthetics like that, looking at the amount of small symbolic pedants and figures filling in the place. There are also books, and something that looks like old letters, and god know what else, as the place is practically stuffed with things.

“How can I help you, young man?”

The voice is clear, but feels lulling at the same time. San jerks up, turning around and feeling his heart beat fuming somewhere in his ears.

In front of him is a woman – San would assume she is of middle age, though he is quite bad at guessing that. Her hair is raven black and curly, framing her small face in soft waves. She wears something that looks like a blazer and a long skirt, that stretches almost down to her ankles. There is also a shiny shawl covering her shoulders, decorated with images of moon, stars, and runes that San has seen on the doors before.

He feels uneasy, but welcomed at the same time.

“Good evening,” San forces out politely, stretching his lips in a closeted smile. “It’s a funny story, actually,” he huffs a laugh, and a woman in front of him smiles. “My friend wanted to buy a tarot deck – don’t ask why, I won’t know the answer – and he tagged me along, and we kind of got lost,” now San feels he is mumbling, feeling as words come out as a mush. “But I think it looks like a place we were looking for? Do you sell tarot decks?”

The woman stays silent, for a moment. San is close to running away but something keeps him in his place, as if there is something magnetic in the air.

“Unfortunately, no,” The woman finally says, and San can’t help but feel the rush of disappointment. No matter how absurd and stupid the idea seemed in the first place, it was something that made Wooyoung excited, which made San happy in return.

Maybe his problem is not that tiny.

“Tell me more,” the woman suddenly says, turning around and leading her way further to the shop. San’s head screams ‘RUN’, but it still feels as if he is bewitched as the curiosity takes over, and he follows her, trailing behind.

“Huh?”

It feels like the fog from the outside transferred to San’s head.

The woman laughs. “About your friend.”

“Wooyoung?” San says and mentally curses out. He is already giving out names, which is actually not really safe thing to do.

Instead of answering the woman just nods, standing behind what looks like a stall and leaning in on her elbows.

“There is nothing to tell, we are members of same group, and I am helping him out,” San continues, trying to be careful with words. “We have been friends for about three years and you will ask why I have even agreed to this? Probably because I have a spot as weak for him as that gigantic plushie he brought me on my birthday and perhaps—” The words spill unconsciously, as if someone pulls certain strings inside of his body to make him talk. San blinks several times, coming back to senses as he shuts his mouth.

“I see,” the woman shoots a quick smile at him, and slides under the counter. The noises make it seem like she is looking for something. “Before you go, can I give you a present?”

“Sorry?” San furrows, still not fully comprehending what is happening.

“A present. For giving my shop a visit.” Carefully, she takes San’s hand into her own, turning the palm up. On top of it she places what looks like a bracelet – decorated with silverish beads and a pedant of sun.

“It’s so pretty, you sure?” San huffs, unable to take away his gaze from the bracelet. It gives a tentative glow under the yellowish lighting, and the pedant of the sun looks sharp and elegant on the edges.

“Of course,” the woman nods. “I hope it helps you find the right person, Choi San.”

The woman leaves, and the weight of the accessory in San’s hand pulls him back in. He rushes to the door, feeling blissed as his face meets the cool winter air again. The snow is still falling, and it got dark by now, but the feels of the bracelet in his hand is still warm.

As he moves to the main street again, San is immediately met with another solid body.

“You asshole!” There is a hit to his shoulder, but San feels as he is embraced in a tight hug after that. Wooyoung breathes heavily, somewhere near San’s neck. “I thought you got kidnapped!”

“What?”

Wooyoung pulls away, look on his face being a mixture between fierceness and concern. He took of his beanie, so now his black hair is neatly framed with the softness of snowflakes, almost creating a white crown on his head.

San thinks he is close to bursting into tears.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls!” Wooyoung whines, bundling in his scarf and jumping into his place from cold. “Just, straight up disappeared for half an hour! I thought something happened!”

San chuckles, feeling as smile is curling at the side of his lips. “Aww, Woo, you were worried!” He raises his arm up to pinch the boy’s frozen cheeks, and the latter flinches with a huff.

“Of course, I was worried,” he mumbles in a sulky manner. “I would have to explain how and why I got you lost, and then listen to a two-hour-long lecture from Seonghwa, who needs that?”

San observes Wooyoung’s puckered lips and wandering gaze, smiling. “Will pretend I believe you.”

“You’d better.”

The snow is still falling when they make their way too subway station. San briefly tells Wooyoung about his odd encounter in mysterious shop, mindfully omitting some of the details. Only seeing Wooyoung startled and surprised expression, he realizes that from different point of view the situation may seem rather dangerous.

“You really could have been kidnapped.”

“The woman was half my size,” San rolls his eyes. He ignores a sleezy feeling in his guts when he realizes that the woman called him by his name when he obviously didn’t say it aloud. Maybe, she recognized San, after all. Not like he is not a public figure, right? “And she was nice! Even gave me a present.”

Wooyoung abruptly stops, making San stumble in his place as well. “Don’t tell me you took it.”

“It’s just an accessory,” San groans. “No harm.”

“Show me.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, San takes the bracelet out of his pocket. He puts it on his palm and stretches out to the boy. Wooyoung’s lips slightly part as he looks at it, titling his head to the side. “I told you, it’s harmless,” San whispers, watching as Wooyoung’s gaze is still locked to the bracelet in his hand.

“Sunshine,” Wooyoung mutters, a small smile climbing his lips. San’s breath is trapped somewhere in his lungs, and everything feels suffocating. “Do you want to put it on?”

“Huh?”

Wooyoung smiles. “I can put it on for you.”

It must be something in the way the snow falls, or in the way the lighting embraces Wooyoung’s small figure, but suddenly San feels completely helpless and maybe a tiny bit overwhelmed, all the coherent sentences and words getting stuck somewhere between his mouth and clear consciousness. The only thing he can do is nod, while still looking shyly to the ground where snow is slowly piling up under his feet.

Wooyoung slowly rolls up one of the sleeves of his coat, and San shivers when the first snowflakes land on his bronze skin. It’s cold, striking, and warm at the same time when Wooyoung faintly traces his fingers above San’s wrist, just where the bracelet was supposed to land. San hopes his hitched breathing is inaudible, and the goosebumps on his skin can be tied to the cold.

In glimpse of the second everything is over – Wooyoung quickly fiddles with a snap and rolls San’s sleeve back in no time. “Here,” he whispers. “Looks pretty on you.”

“Thanks,” San rasps, nearly chocking on his saliva. He doesn’t know how long they have been standing like this, in the snow, but catches how Wooyoung’s hands are red and skin there looks rather chapped. _Oh, to hold them._ “Have you found what you’ve been looking for, by the way? You haven’t said a word when you came back, just straight up started bombarding me with questions.”

“Nah,” Wooyoung shakes his head letting out a bitter chuckle. “Gave up when you stopped answering your phone.”

San feels the pang of guilt. “We can still look for it? Or find another place?” He suggests meekly, hoping that the distaste in his voice isn’t obvious.

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung shrugs, and turns around to start walking again. San trails behind, quickly catching up and bumping their shoulders in process. “I am just glad I got to spend time with you, I guess.”

San sucks in a breath and coughs. There is a giddy ringing in his head and ears, as if someone punched him in the chest. “Sappy,” he forces out, clenching his fists in inner pockets of his coat.

“As if you care.”

San doesn’t.

“Let’s get a cab for a ride back, shall we?”

*

San feels that something is weird as soon as he wakes up.

The last thing San remembers before falling asleep is the soft reassuring grip on his shoulder that Wooyoung gives him, and a sound of Yunho shuffling in his bed. For some reason the day feels way too exhausting and overwhelming, so, surprisingly, the sleep comes to him really fast, taking him some places. San distinctly remembers something slick and pink – like cotton candy, coating him with dizziness and haze.

When his eyes finally fly open, the ceiling looks like it spins, and San can swear he sees some patterns there when in reality it looks blank, plain, and varnished. Groggily he rises himself up, patting bedsheets in attempts to find his phone. As San gets it into his hand, he unlocks it, swiftly swiping through the notifications. He has to squint slightly as the blinding screen still seems too bright for his sleepy gaze.

Until he catches the date marked under the place where the time is showcased.

 _Eleventh of January._ Shouldn’t be anything special, right?

Despite the fact that eleventh of January was yesterday.

San feels his pulse picking up. He could have blame it all on a dream, but the moments of yesterday – today – feel vivid in his head. Subway ride, that odd shop on the outskirts of the city, snowflakes on Wooyoung’s eyelashes and his soft touches burning marks on San’s wrist. Either the dream was way too tangible, or San is utterly and completely losing his mind.

“Hey, loser!” San jumps in his place, head snapping in the direction of the opened door. It feels as if someone pressed rewind button, as if he has seen it all before.

Because he did.

San once googled the notion of déjà vu, when he first came across it in one of the songs he was listening to. _It is the feeling that one has lived through the present situation before –_ that is the first definition google gives. San has encountered it before – it’s something that tingles at the back of his mind sometimes at the most random moments of his life.

But now it’s different.

San can compare it to the melody. When you heard it before, and come across it again as suddenly something familiar hits you – it’s déjà vu. Now it rather feels like the song that you are listening to was put on repeat over and over again.

“What the hell do you want?” San mumbles, as if on autopilot. Wooyoung looks exactly like yesterday – _today?_ – messy black hair sticking out, with a white tank top thrown over his body, so big as it swallows him whole. He plops onto the bed, and pushes San to the side, and _of course_ he falls right onto his arm and makes San yelp, just like it happened before.

“Rude,” Wooyoung hisses, and San nearly chokes at the familiarity of that.

Before Wooyoung can say anything else, San makes an attempt to formulate the sentence. “Wooyoung,” he mutters, observing the latter’s face as if he is seeing it for the first time. At least something is stable in this haze of events as his heart leaps a few times from how beautiful the boy is. “Today is eleventh of January, right?”

Wooyoung furrows. “Yes? Why?”

“You’re one hundred percent sure?”

“You’re scaring me,” Wooyoung shuffles closer. “Are you okay?”

 _No._ “Y-yes,” San stutters out, and shoots him a quick smile. “Just--,” he sucks in a breath, looking for an appropriate question to ask next. “Woo, what were we doing yesterday?”

“San, you’re sure you—”

“Just answer me,” San deadpans, flinching from the way it came out. _Harsh._

Wooyoung furrows even more, hugging his knees closer to his chest. “Nothing extraordinary? We were at the company, practiced for a few hours, then ate dinner, recorded stuff for schedules. The usual.”

San’s head is spinning. _It can’t be happening._ “We weren’t in Seongdong-gu?”

Wooyoung’s head snaps and his eyes open wide. “No, but I actually wanted to ask—”

“If I can go there with you,” San finishes the sentence in a wobbly voice.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the actual fuck._

“Yeah,” Wooyoung breathes out. “How did you know?”

San feels like throwing up. The world around suddenly starts moving and a few drops of cold sweat roll down his neck.

“Hey, hey, hey, San,” Wooyoung shuffles closer, and cups San’s face into his hands. The touch feels burning on his lifeless skin as the blood seemed to leave his body altogether. “You look sick, oh my god,” he whispers, thumbs caressing San’s cheeks gently. “Do you feel bad? Do you need anything? Wait, I will bring you—”

Wooyoung starts rambling something, but San is not there – it feels like his ears are full of water, and he squints hard in hopeless attempts that something will change. When he opens his eyes, everything is the same, and Wooyoung is still rambling, but San’s gaze suddenly lands onto his wrist resting onto his knee. Silver beads are framing them, and all the silver shines back at him almost mockingly.

Something suddenly clicks.

“I gotta go,” San suddenly interrupts Wooyoung’s rambles, hopping of the bed and rushing to the closet. He doesn’t pay attention to Wooyoung’s screeching noises, and the way his body misses the warmth and being held, instead concentrating on putting on the very first sweater he comes across.

“Wait, what?” Wooyoung’s voice is loud and ringing, and is probably heard outside of the room. “What do you mean ‘gotta go’, you look like you’re fucking dying!”

“I need to be somewhere.” San comes back to the bad to pick up the phone from the sheets. Wooyoung grabs his arm and tries to tug him back in.

“At this hour?”

“It’s important.”

San breaks away from Wooyoung’s hold and goes straight to the door. Not even few seconds after, steps follow him right through the living room. San catches the glimpse of Hongjoong with a laptop on his knees and almost feels his questioning glance that is directed at both of them.

“You can’t just leave in that state!” Wooyoung shrikes, trying to grab San’s arm again. They are already by the front door, and San still feels as Hongjoong is watching them carefully. “What if you collapse right on the street? We don’t even know what it is?”

Wooyoung is angry. His face is flushed, and his eyes blister with something glassy, as the deep frown forms on his forehead. His fists are clenched tightly by his sides, and San can vividly imagine how the nails are digging into Wooyoung’s soft skin now.

“It’s none of your business,” San snaps, crouching down to fiddle with shoelaces. He is glad he is facing the ground as he wouldn’t bear to see the hurt look on Wooyoung’s face now.

He knows.

“Is everything okay?” Hongjoong calls out somewhere from the living room, and it’s not something that San is ready to deal with on top of a set of already growing problems he has.

He stands up, taking his coat from the hanger and quickly throwing it over. San practically feels Wooyoung’s stern gaze getting under his skin – it tingles all over with unpleasant sensation. “Don’t know why I even care,” Wooyoung hisses out, but instead of having an angry appeal, San hears the boy’s voice wobbling somewhere in the middle.

He feels tears gathering somewhere in the corners of his eyes as he shuts the door close behind his back. San feels frustrated and confused, but most importantly – guilty.

Somewhere at the back of his mind there is a hope that everything can be fixed.

*

By the second hour of searching through the area the only reminder that San has about mysterious shop is the weight of the bracelet on his wrist.

It just seems like the place has never existed and was just a product of his vivid imagination.

But San still looks – walks in circles for at least three times, even gets up on the roof to view the area from above. The frustration switches to the scruffy feeling of anxiety crippling right under his skin. It shoots, and stings, but San just keeps aimlessly going until his legs finally giving.

Snow starts falling in waves onto him as he finds the nearest wall to lean in and rest. He throws his head back and it hits the surface with a loud thump. The pain is dull, but for some reason the faint ringing strikes through his ears. San thinks that mayhaps hitting his head against the thick cement wasn’t a good idea, right until he realizes that the ringing in his ears is quite real.

He titles his hand to the side just in time to see a familiar door made of wood and glass.

In good faith, he rushes to it, pulling the handle as hard as he can. The bells under the door let out sharp set of noises as San stumbles into the shop. Everything looks the same – from books, to figurines, to unknow runes plastered on the wall.

“What the fuck?” San shouts into the premises and his voice echoes through the room. It gets swallowed in silence, but soon after the sound of footsteps fill his ears.

“No need to be so rude, Choi San.”

“Rude?” San shrieks and turns around. Nothing about the woman has changed – same black curly hair, long skirt, and a transparent shawl thrown over her shoulders. “I am not _rude_ , I am fucking _furious_. What the hell did you do?”

“ _Personally_ , I didn’t do anything.”

“You know damn well what I am talking about,” he hisses. “I may be naïve and dense sometimes, but for sure I am not stupid.”

“I am not saying you are,” the woman sighs. She purses her lips in a thin line and takes a little stroll further into the shop. San follows. “It’s your bracelet.”

“Wow, really?” San exclaims in a faux surprise. “I couldn’t have fucking guessed!”

“Choi San,” the woman snorts. “You want to know what to do or?”

“Fucking ridiculous,” San mutters, but follows the woman further, right to the counter where she gifted him an accessory.

“Have you heard about soulmates, Choi San?”

San squints. “In theory, yes,” he says, this time in a calmer manner. “How is this relevant?”

“Your bracelet,” She points to it with her gaze. “It’s not an ordinary item, as you said you _guessed_ ,” she emphasizes the word, rolling her eyes. “There is a belief, in witchcraft, that soulmates identify the lost beloved that are reborn in another reincarnation, and that they will remember, know and love each other again. In order to find happiness, you have to join the lost souls together.”

San thinks he is collapsing. It can’t be real _, it can’t it can’t can’t—_ “So, are you a witch?”

The woman shoots him a quick smile. “You can put it like that.”

San hides his flushed face in his arms, letting out a strangled noise of despair at the back of his throat. “And how the fuck--,” he throws his head back, groaning loudly. “How do I find this _soulmate_?”

“That’s what the bracelet is for,” the woman chuckles. “You see, different items have a different type of charm to it. _Solar_ – the one on your wrist – cages you in a time loop right until you and your soulmate touch.”

San lets out a relieved sigh, but it is followed by a train of obsessive thoughts. _What if—_ “So, how do I break the spell?” He asks, hoping that the intrusive feelings go away. “God, don’t tell me we should fuck.”

“Easier, Choi San,” the woman rolls her eyes. “How do you break a spell in fairytales?”

_It has to be a fucking joke._

“Kiss?” San chuckles bitterly.

“Bingo.”

San should be perplexed. Yes, they took a ride back in cab but who knows with how many people he came into contact accidentally, right? But the burning feeling of Wooyoung’s fingers is still present on his skin – San may be imagining, but it still bites and tingles through the soft layers of his body. He just knows this is it.

_He knows._

“You know who it is, don’t you?”

“You knew as well,” San doesn’t ask – simply states. “You asked me about my friend not just for giggles, right?”

The woman huffs a laugh, thrumming her fingers along the counter. “Lucky guess, Choi San.”

“So, me and him – we kiss,” San’s voice wavers at the word. “And if it’s him, that’s it? I am free?”

“Free and no longer lovesick,” the woman replies.

“A dream,” San bitterly chuckles, tracing his gaze over the bracelet on his wrist. _It suits you_ , Wooyoung has said.

“By the way, I do happen to have a tarot deck.”

“Huh?” San’s head snaps. “Are you for real now?” He arches an eyebrow, watching as the woman goes to the nearest shelf to pick something that looks like a small black box.

“Here,” she stretches it out in San’s direction. “A present.”

“Sorry, but I will rather pay.”

“Relax, will you,” the woman smirks. “No more witchery surprises, I promise.”

San hesitates for a second, but then the image of Wooyoung’s wide smile and excited eyes fills every inch of his brain. _Damn it._ “Fine,” he grumbles and takes the package. “At least let me have something out of this.”

And the odd gut feeling tells San that, perhaps, it’s not the last deviant thing this situation brings out.

*

Wooyoung is sulky.

San can tell by the obvious eye roll that is thoroughly tried to be hidden by the boy’s long bangs and by the way Yeosang gives him a hinting look, mumbling ‘I will go grab a snack’ as soon as San enters the room.

It is tensed, and unpleasant, and San has no idea how in hell he should fix it.

“Hey,” he says meekly, coming closer to Wooyoung’s bed. The latter’s gaze stays glued to his phone, though over his shoulder San’s sees as he just swipes back and forth between his homescreens. “I am back?”

“Very fucking glad to hear that,” Wooyoung mutters. “Go pat your yourself on a head or something.”

“Woo--,”

“What?” He looks up, hand going up to brush back his bang, but they fall back in a split of second. “You can’t just look like you dying, then run away on the other side of the city, and then come back and expect me to act like nothing happened.”

“I am not asking you to act like nothing happened,” San replies, trying to keep his voice steady. “I want to explain.”

“Well, go ahead,” Wooyoung crosses arms on his chest. “Listening attentively.”

San carefully places himself in front of Wooyoung, plopping on the bed. The weight of the words is almost physical as they circling roundabouts in his mind, as San doesn’t really know where the explanation should even take its beginning.

_How do you explain something you don’t understand yourself?_

“Do you believe in soulmates?” San blurts out the first reasonable argument that comes to his mind.

Wooyoung looks up and squints at him, deep frown forming on his forehead. “What?”

“Soulmates,” San tries again. “Like, in movies, and books, you know?” He adds in a much quieter voice, fumbling with bedsheets underneath him. They are of bright blue colour, and remind him of sun that was breaking through the clouds on this foggy day.

Like hope.

Wooyoung stays silent for a few minutes, but surprisingly doesn’t laugh – or mock him about the question. “Well, it’s a cute concept?” He finally says, though his usual high-pitched and bright voice sounds dull and heavy. “If you want to believe that there is nothing shameful about—”

“What if I say you’re my soulmate,” San mumbles. At one point, he really hopes Wooyoung haven’t caught that, but as their eyes meet, he sees an expression of utter shock on the latter’s face.

“I’m sorry?”

San gulps, gripping on the fabric in his hands tightly, as if it can take him away from this absurdly horrific situation. “Would you believe me if – hypothetically – I told you you’re my soulmate,” he jabbers in one short breath feeling as his heart drops somewhere to his stomach, but still keeps pampering there, for some reason.

“Please don’t joke around like that,” Wooyoung whispers, words being framed by hitched breathing. It almost looks like he panics with the way his chest rises and falls in jagged manner, while his eyes are trying to focus on anything but San.

“I am not joking,” San whispers back. He wants to do a lot of things – take Wooyoung’s hand, soothingly rub circles into his tender skin, maybe mutter some words of reassurance in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “I am serious, dead serious.”

Wooyoung bites down on his lips and San catches a faint pink that is blooming on his skin. His movements get rather brittle as he fiddles with the hem of his own shirt. “I guess I would be glad if it turned out to be true,” he chuckles, and there are glisters of something soft yet mischievous when he looks into San’s eyes.

“Wooyoung,” San leans in a bit, placing one hand over the boy’s knee. Wooyoung sucks in a breath at that, smile on his lips getting wobbly. “It will sound really fucking strange now, but I really need to kiss you.”

Wooyoung blinks. “What?”

“Look,” San ignores the jab, stretching out his arm right at Wooyoung. The latter’s gaze immediately lands on the silver beads framing San’s wrist as he places his fingers over, playing with a sun pedant hanging down the wire. “Do you feel something?” San still talks in low voice, as if afraid of breaking the spell.

What an irony when it should, in fact, be broken.

“I--,” Wooyoung sucks in a breath, tracing his fingers over San’s skin in exactly same manner he did when he had first put it there. “No—but yes. San,” he shakes his head. “I don’t understand?”

“Just let me kiss you, please.”

It’s a plea. San knows he sounds desperate – but this time it’s not because there is this strong will to get his life back to normal – which is actually present, he can’t lie – but now his whole world is fixated on Wooyoung: the gleam in his eyes, a tentative smile framed by the pink of his cheeks, and a beauty mark that is now hidden with the way his skin folds.

San really wants to touch him.

When Wooyoung gives him a short nod the world stops. One of San’s hand is still on his knee, gripping tightly, and he uses it as leverage to push himself closer. Their faces are only few inches apart by now, but San’s gaze still flickers from Wooyoung’s lips and back to his eyes, as if asking if that is really okay.

Wooyoung smiles.

San doesn’t exactly know which type of kiss is preferable – despite how absurd it sounds in his head – but settles on just brushing their lips together, feeling skin there spiking when Wooyoung sighs into his lips. San quickly pulls back, but there is a pout on Wooyoung’s face who suddenly grabs onto his shirt, and connects their lips together again. San lets out a surprised yelp, but quickly melts back into the kiss, feeling as if shivers crawl up right under his skin.

In San’s head imagining kissing Wooyoung always felt like burning fire – hot, smudgy, and accompanied with sticky feeling of guilt and self-hatred growing inside. The feeling of Wooyoung’s lips on his in reality makes San feel lightheaded, dizzy, and, maybe, a little bit in love. It’s a feeling of a sun in the first few days of spring – when the wind is still biting, but you still feel warmness on your skin.

They break apart and despite the kiss being rather slow and steady they are panting, as if they had never kissed someone before. San looks back at his own wrist, not really understanding if something should switch immediately, or he should just wait for another day to finally come.

But then Wooyoung intertwines heir fingers, and suddenly all San’s worries don’t matter all, as if it’s the mere power of his gentle touch that make them die out.

“Now it’s time to tell you a story, Wooyoung.”

*

“Time loop?” Wooyoung stares back at him as they decided to settle in the kitchen, away from everyone’s eyes.

They watch together as the clock strikes midnight – as if they are in movie, and when San finally sees _Monday 01/12_ appearing on his screen, he lets out a deep sigh of relief.

“Well, technically I was stuck there only for a day and if everything is fine then it won’t bother me again,” San says, putting a bit of sugar in Wooyoung’s coffee and placing the mug closer to him. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Listen, I don’t have to deal with spiritual shit every day of my life,” Wooyoung scrunches his nose in slight distaste but still takes the mug with warm liquid into his hands. “But the bracelet… Yeah, I’ve never seen it before, and it’s weird. And it was,” he looks up to the ceiling and bites down on his lower lip while humming something under his breath. “Tingling all over.”

“It’s called _soulmate bond_ ,” San teases him, lips twisting in a coy smile.

“Fuck off,” Wooyoung grunts, but returns the smile gladly, light pink appearing on his cheeks. “But you know, after all, it doesn’t matter, If I believe in it, or not. What’s important is the outcome, right?”

There is something fragile and dainty in Wooyoung’s eyes – as if he is silently asking a question, but is way to scared to hear the answer to it if he asks it aloud. San notes how he grasps on the mug in his hands so tightly that there are tints of red on his fingers and his knuckles get unbearably pale.

“Yeah,” San wheezes out, gathering all the bits of strength and sanity that are left. “Oh, by the way, I bought you something.” San blinks a few times, and suddenly becomes quite aware of the object in his back pocket. He pulls the tarot deck out and puts it is right in front of Wooyoung.

“How did you know, wait?” Wooyoung’s eyes bug out in surprise and his lips part slightly. “We’ve never talked about this,” he takes the deck in his hands and looks up at San in mere confusion.

“Time loop, told ya,” San winks, and leans in to place a quick to Wooyoung’s reddening cheeks. The latter mumbles something illegible under his breath puffing his cheeks.

The weight of the bracelet on San’s wrist feels especially pleasant today.

**Author's Note:**

> btw this [pic](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EqqgAZyXcAQ27wV?format=jpg&name=small) was my visual reference
> 
> i'm really sorry if this was a little bit all over the place because the deadlines were nearing and i already had half of the story written and no way to go back T_T hope it's not as bad as it seems to me now because the only thing i want is to delete my existence sjjdjdkf
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading, please stay healthy and safe, and best wishes to aru once again, hope you enjoyed it <3 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/_softouches)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softouchan) where you can talk to me or leave a prompt ;)


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